


Last Request

by jojo_kenobi



Series: Last Request [4]
Category: Mr. Robot (TV)
Genre: Alternate Canon, Elliot works for E Corp, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Paranoia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-11
Updated: 2016-12-11
Packaged: 2018-09-07 23:12:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8820070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jojo_kenobi/pseuds/jojo_kenobi
Summary: Elliot forgets about Tyrell.





	

Elliot woke up in his flat, alone. He couldn’t place why exactly him being alone felt so odd, but it did. He felt empty and was freezing as soon as his eyes snapped open, even though he could hear the damn heater working so hard it was making those clicking and tapping noises again.

 

He reached out to his left and found only empty, cold space. This was weird, too. But why shouldn’t he be alone?

 

Shit, what the fuck was going on?

 

He could feel the paranoia creeping up again, mixing up with the burning desire to shut it out and to go back to feeling numb.

 

But when he went to check if he had any morphine left, he didn’t even find empty bottles.

 

Because he had been sober for a couple of months now, right. How could he forget about that?

 

Fuck.

 

Okay. He’d be just fine without morphine.

 

As soon as he left his flat, he lit up a cigarette. He could do this. He got this.

 

|~|

 

As soon as he got into Allsafe, he realized who was missing – Mr. Robot. Elliot wasn’t sure if he should be glad about this or if he should be worried. When he left the elevator, he almost ran into Gideon, who was literally storming out of the office. Had there been a hacker attack again tonight? But why hadn’t he called him last night, if this had been the case?

 

“Oh, hey Elliot, nice to see you. What are you doing here?” he asked, smiling politely at him.

 

Elliot could only gape at him for a few moments. He knew he was missing something crucial here, but what?

 

“What do you mean? I work here,” he meant to answer, but no words left his mouth. He felt his chest tightening, panic beginning to rise up.

 

“Elliot? Are you okay?”

 

Gideon was still expecting an answer. _Okay, calm down, you got this_ , he told himself, even though his heart was already trying to beat out of his chest, urging him to run away.

 

“I, uhm, came to work?” Elliot replied hesitantly.

 

Gideon furrowed his brows, before he forced himself to grin. Okay, what the –

 

“Nice joke, Elliot. Did Mr. Wellick send you to check up on us?”

 

“Tyrell?” Elliot asked, immediately regretting it. But what did Tyrell Wellick have to do with this?

 

Shit, he was definitely missing something.

 

“Yes. Tyrell Wellick. Your boss over at E Corp,” Gideon answered, his smile having faded completely now, replaced by the same confusion Elliot was feeling right now.

 

“Right. No, he, uhm, didn’t send me. I need to see Angela,” he said, pleading that at least she would be there.

 

“Go ahead, then. She’s at her cubicle.”

 

Elliot could feel Gideon watching him while he walked away. The urge to tug his hoodie back over his head was almost irresistible. Halfway at Angela’s desk he noticed that his hands were trembling, so he shoved them into his pockets.

 

_You got this, you got this, you got this._

“Elliot? Did you forget that you’re no longer working here?” Angela asked, chuckling at her joke.

 

“Kind of,” he murmured, attempting a smile on his own. He failed.

 

“You really don’t –“

 

“No,” he interrupted. “But don’t give me that look.”

 

‘That look’ was her typical mix of pity and worry. He’d grown to hate it and she knew this.

 

“I’m sorry, Elliot. How about we go and grab a drink after work, so we can catch up on what you’re missing?”

 

“Yeah, maybe,” he gave back.

 

Her phone lit up with a message from an unknown number. She covered it with her hand almost instantly, but not fast enough. Part of him wished he wouldn’t have read it, though.

 

_Did you talk to him yet? - TW_

 

|~|

 

Elliot had been staring at the Evil Corp building for solid five minutes, trying to convince himself to go in.

 

If he’d manage to enter, he could search for Tyrell and find out what he’d forgotten. Maybe he could hack into Tyrell’s laptop; he’d probably have access to the network. If only he would go in. It would be the easiest solution, really. But still, he was frozen in terror, his instincts urging him to run away instead.

 

How had he even ended up working for Evil Corp? He was so damn sure he’d had declined Tyrell’s offer, he remembered how disappointed Tyrell had been. He remembered… not much more than that.

 

Maybe Tyrell had forced him to take the job? Threatened him? He couldn’t be trusted, he was –

 

… calling him right now. Elliot stared at the name lighting up in his phone, because apparently he had his number saved. This didn’t make sense.

 

He let it ring, even when Tyrell called again and again.

 

After the third call, he received a text message.

 

_Where are you? – Tyrell_

Elliot turned on his heels and fled.

 

|~|

 

Back at home, he checked his phone and computer for any trace that would indicate him and Tyrell having contact before. But there was nothing left; no text messages, no e-mails, absolutely nothing. This didn’t mean anything though. He’d probably erased all traces by himself.

 

Mr. Robot was probably trying to protect him from whatever he’d made himself forget, but he still wasn’t showing up.

 

Maybe he would find something if he tried to hack Tyrell?

 

“No chance, buddy.”

 

Startled, Elliot turned to face his dad.

 

“What’s going on? Tell me what the fuck I’m missing,” he demanded, clenching his fists.

 

Morphine, he needed some damn morphine. _You got this_ , he reminded himself. _Stay calm._

 

“No,” Mr. Robot answered, staring him down. “It’s for the best if you don’t remember. In fact, I think we should leave.”

 

“Leave?”

 

“Yes, you smartass, leave. Get out of town,” Mr. Robot repeated, already yanking his wardrobe open and throwing out random pieces of clothes.

 

Elliot had never owned many clothes, but he was sure he owned more than what was now lying across the floor. But where had they gone?

 

Shit, this was too frustrating.

 

Wait. There was a tie lying on his bed. He’d never owned a tie before. So why…?

 

While his dad was busy shoving his stuff in a backpack, he went to pick it up.

 

“This is Tyrell’s,” he stated. “Tell me why I have Tyrell Wellick’s tie in my wardrobe.”

 

When he turned back around, Mr. Robot had vanished again.

 

|~|

 

Angela wanted to meet him at their usual bar downtown. Elliot was somewhat relieved that he hadn’t forgotten about this place, but thinking about this didn’t clear up anything. Only that his memory loss seemed to be linked to Tyrell, but this wasn’t particularly surprising by now.

 

Whatever it was, he hoped Angela would tell him about it.

 

Instead, she was sipping on her drink and chatting about work, only changing the topic if she wanted to comment on the karaoke songs the other people around them performed.

 

He desperately wanted to interrupt her, needed her to fill the empty space that his memories were, but he couldn’t get himself to speak.

 

Instead he nodded politely, only half listening to her rambling about the last time she and Ollie had been over for dinner at Gideon’s and how much of an idiot he was. Not exactly her words, but her annoyance was painfully obvious. He could barely stand it.

 

“Why don’t you just dump him?” he snapped. She paused and looked at him, before she went on talking.

 

Because no words had escaped his mouth. Shit.

 

“You’re losing it. We need to leave,” Mr. Robot said, suddenly standing next to Angela.

 

Elliot wanted to haul his drink at him.

 

“Angela, I need to know what’s going on,” he finally managed to choke out.

 

This time, she heard him. Yet again she didn’t answer, just gestured to the other side of the bar.

  
And the timing couldn’t have been more perfect. There he was, walking up to the tiny makeshift stage with a microphone in his hand.

 

Elliot was sure he was hallucinating. Tyrell Wellick was standing right there in a simple button-down with the sleeves rolled up and black jeans. Since when did Tyrell even wear jeans? Elliot was sure he’d never seen him in anything else than his suits. Just as he noticed that he was downright staring at him, he became aware that Tyrell had indeed been looking back at him the whole time.  

 

He was definitely fantasizing. No fucking way was this happening right now.

 

“Angela, do you –“

 

“Yes, I do,” she cut him off, a mischievous little smile on her face.

 

The music started and in an instant Elliot knew it was a cover of Paolo Nutini. This was weird. He was very sure that he’d never actually listened to that guy. But who was he to claim that? He could barely distinct between what was real and what wasn’t.

 

But Tyrell Wellick singing a love song on karaoke in a bar? Definitely real. Even though it was totally ridiculous. Tyrell probably hadn’t even known this bar existed before Angela must’ve dragged him here.

 

Still, as soon as he actually started to sing the first words, it did something to Elliot. He couldn’t explain it. His stomach was twisting and his palms were sweating and goddammit, his heart was racing.

 

What the fuck was going on?

 

Elliot managed to last through the first refrain before he ran out of the bar.

 

|~|

 

Back in his flat, he knew what he was searching for. Mr. Robot was yelling at him, trying to stop him from getting what he needed to find.

 

The CD was tucked neatly between the last pages of his binder.

 

_Last Request._

For a second, he hesitated, his hand hovering over the CD.

 

“Please, don’t do this, Elliot, I’m begging you to stop,” Mr. Robot pleaded.

 

“Sorry,” Elliot answered. He didn’t dare to look at his dad, rather kept his gaze fixated on his desktop while he opened the folders.

 

The first one was a regular employment contract between himself and Evil Corp, a lot of sensitive data, whatever might be useful for FSociety, but that didn’t matter right now.

 

He clicked onto the next folder and found the profiles, e-mails and pics he’d had stumbled upon when he’d hacked Tyrell for the first time. It hadn’t been unsuccessful, since this was the public version of him, but this too, was useless to him right now.

 

Third folder: more unnecessary pictures, mostly taken by surveillance cameras and illegally recorded phone calls. Elliot didn’t know a word of Swedish, so those weren’t of much use, too.

 

But then his earlier suspicion came out to be true when he found the e-mails and text messages that Tyrell had exchanged with him during the past months.

 

Tyrell asking him out for dinner; Elliot thanking him for the flowers he’d gotten him for his last birthday; a confirmation e-mail for an upcoming trip to Sweden.

 

None of this sounded like he and Tyrell were merely business acquaintances. No, this sounded like they way more than that.

 

The last folder had two files.

 

First: Finalized divorce papers between Tyrell and Joanna.

 

Last: An address that google maps told him belonged to a penthouse in Manhattan, 20 minutes away from his flat.

 

Images flickered in front of his eyes.

 

Tyrell smiling at him whenever they run into each other at Evil Corp, never being able to resist the urge to touch him.

 

Tyrell staring at him wide-eyed after their first kiss, then leaning in to do it again.

 

Tyrell waking him up with breakfast in bed on a Sunday morning, followed by lazy make-out sessions.

 

And finally, himself waking up from a nightmare, not being able to hold back the tears; Tyrell holding him, whispering sweet nothings and pressing kisses on his hair; Tyrell singing this cheesy love song, soothing him until his tears had gone dry.

 

He didn’t understand any of this, even though the solution seemed to be painfully obvious.  Mr. Robot had disappeared, only a trace of his disappointment still hovering in the room.

 

There was only one thing left for him to do so he could fix this.

 

|~|

 

Even though some part of him knew that he probably had the matching key hidden somewhere, Elliot rang the doorbell instead.

 

Tyrell opened the door after a few seconds, as if he’d had only waited for him to come home.

 

Wait. Did his subconsciousness just identify this as his _home_?

 

“Elliot, I –” Tyrell began and stopped, an expression on his face that reminded Elliot of guilt. His bottom lip was trembling, but before Elliot could question this any further, Tyrell stepped forward and put his hands on Elliot’s shoulders, squeezed them, as if he was testing the waters. When Elliot didn’t flinch, he slowly embraced him in a hug, resting his chin on his head.

 

“I’m sorry,” Elliot mumbled into Tyrell’s shoulder.

 

“Don’t be,” he answered. Without letting go of him, Tyrell tugged him completely into their flat and closed the door behind him.

 

For a while, they just stood there, holding each other. Elliot could feel Tyrell’s rapid heartbeat slowing down over time, synching with his own. Despite his aversion to being touched, this was fine. No, more than fine; his body was used to this.

 

Tyrell let go of him, leaving him with the same longing he’d distantly felt over the day.

 

“How about we make some hot cocoa and just talk?” he asked, a tiny smile on his lips. Elliot nodded and followed him into the kitchen. While he sat down on one of the bar stools, he watched Tyrell turn on the stove. It took him a second to remember that, yes, Tyrell actually made the effort to make hot chocolate from scratch. It always reminded him of Sweden, so of course it had to be done the way his _mormor_ had taught him, back when he’d been a little kid.

 

 _Mormor_. Didn’t that mean grandma in Swedish? So he did know some words in Tyrell’s mother language.

 

As Elliot looked at his boyfriend, more memories came tumbling back, slow but steady.

 

The way he always called him _älskling_ when they were alone and that one time he did when they weren’t.

 

|~|

 

_“Not so fast,” Tyrell remarked when Elliot tried to sneak into his office._

_Usually he liked that his workplace was just next to the kitchen, since that meant he didn’t have to walk past anyone when he wanted to refill his coffee. Also, crossing paths with Tyrell in there was just never happening. But Elliot should’ve known Tyrell would be waiting for him there, especially since he’d had come into work today without the usual coffee already waiting for him on his desk._

_So even though Elliot had long rushed past the kitchen door, he obediently walked back._

_“Bonsoir Elliot,” Tyrell smirked when he came into view. Elliot was out of breath, his hair was ruffled and he hadn’t shaved in the past days. Not exactly the dress code standards that working at Evil Corp required._

_“I know I’m late, sorry. My alarm didn’t go off,” he explained._

_“Obviously. I suppose that’s also why you didn’t bother to look into the mirror before leaving?”_

_“I… shit, is that meeting with Allsafe today?” he replied, eyes growing wide open with shock._

_“Yes, it is,” Tyrell answered, taking a sip of his coffee. “You have exactly one and a half hours to fix yourself and get everything ready.”_

_Elliot glanced at the mug in his hands, probably not daring to ask if he could have some coffee first. He certainly looked like he needed it. Tyrell sighed before he pressed his own mug into Elliot’s hand. Afterwards, he grabbed his shoulders and turned him around._

_“You should shave, too,” he added, then softly pushed him toward his office._

_“Yeah, sure,” Elliot answered and snorted. “You don’t happen to have a razor in your private bathroom?”_

_“Of course I do.” Tyrell let go of him, ready to get himself another coffee and then dive into work as well, when Elliot turned around again. He took a quick look around them, before he got ahold of Tyrell’s tie, tugged him down and pressed their lips together._

_When they parted, Tyrell was out of breath too. “Better get going, älskling, clock’s ticking.”_

_They smiled at each other for a second longer, before Elliot let go of his tie._

_“Sure it is. But first I’m gonna get myself a coffee that doesn’t taste like shit,” Elliot replied and handed Tyrell’s cup back to him._

_“You didn’t even try it,” Tyrell argued with his brows furrowed. Elliot laughed and shook his head._

_“I really don’t have to,” he said and stepped backwards into the kitchen, so he didn’t break their gaze._

_“Dra åt helvete, Elliot,” Tyrell answered, only causing him to laugh again. By now he’d worked long enough with him to know a few swear words in Swedish, and ‘go to hell’ was something he heard almost daily._

_“I thought I already had,” Elliot chuckled._

_Tyrell’s eyes found something behind him, which killed his smile in an instant. Elliot turned around and saw two women leaning against the counter, eating a sandwich. Shit, he thought they’d been alone._

_“Good morning,” Tyrell managed to say, even though he probably wanted to die of shame as much as Elliot wanted to._

_Normally, they tried to limit their relationship to strictly business at work, since they knew that the people at Evil Corp were already gossiping about them enough. Tyrell’s divorce wasn’t done yet and Joanna’s lawsuit against Tyrell was still going on. She was pleading for the sole custody of their son, but Tyrell had no intentions to let her get away with it. As soon as some idiot had caught up on this, everyone seemed to know about them within a few hours. This just played into the narrative that Elliot had basically fucked his way into the company and really, situations like the one just now wasn’t exactly denying that._

_While Elliot had been lost in thought, he hadn’t noticed that Tyrell must’ve said something to him. Right now, he was looking at him expectantly._

_“Sorry?” he asked. One of the women chuckled, but tried to cover it up by turning it into a cough._

_“Don’t you have any work to do?” Tyrell snapped at her, shaking his head. “Whatever. I’ll see you in my office half an hour before the meeting, alright?”_

_“Sure,” Elliot answered. Tyrell nodded one last time before he left the kitchen._

_Trying to regain as much dignity as he could, Elliot straightened his pose and focused on taking out another cup from the cupboard. While he impatiently waited for the coffee machine to work its magic, the woman who had chuckled earlier raised her voice at him._

_“Do you speak Swedish, too?” she asked._

_“No, I don’t. Just a few words,” he replied. He knew merely the essentials – how to greet someone, variations of the word ‘darling’, a few swear words from when Tyrell either cursed someone or when they were having sex, those kind of things._

_“Well, what did it mean, then?” she pressed the subject further._

_By now, his coffee was ready. He took it and gave her a final look, not being able to suppress a grin._

_“Go to hell,” he answered truthfully, before he turned around and left._

|~|

 

At some point, they had changed rooms and were now sitting on the sofa in the living room, facing each other with their empty mugs in their laps. They’d spent the past two hours recollecting different moments of the past year. By now most of his memories were back, but something remained unclear to him.

 

“I still don’t get it. Why did Mr. Robot think it was for the best if I forgot about us? What happened?” he asked.

 

“Oh Elliot, please don’t do this,” Tyrell replied and sighed, before he grabbed his mug and got up.

 

“I need to know,” he insisted, but Tyrell shook his head.

 

“Can’t this wait until tomorrow? It’s been a long day, I’m tired and we have to get up in,” he glanced at his watch, “exactly five hours and twelve minutes.”

 

When Elliot didn’t reply, Tyrell took his cup in his other hand and walked out of the room, probably expecting Elliot to follow.

 

A few minutes later he came back, a hint of concern on his face.

 

“I’m going to bed. Join me?” he asked hesitantly. Maybe he expected him to decline, but Elliot got up and followed him into their bedroom.

 

On his way there, he remembered the moment Tyrell had told him that he wanted them to move in together.

 

|~|

 

_“I can take you with me to work, you know. It’s not like we don’t work at the same company,” Tyrell said, looking at him in the mirror while fixing his tie._

_“Sure you could, but I’d wanna wait for that until I’ve officially moved in here,” Elliot answered, grinning back at him._

_“Well, why don’t you?” Tyrell proposed, finally being content with his appearance._

_Elliot walked over to him, shoving him a little to the side so he could have a look in the mirror himself. To Tyrell’s surprise, Elliot had one of Tyrell’s ties around his neck, but when he attempted to tie it, he just stared at it, not having a clue what to do. Tyrell bit back an adoring smile and began tying it for him. Only now did he see why exactly Elliot was wearing a tie today – he had a rather bad looking love bruise on his neck. Well._

_“What? Move in here?” Elliot replied, looking into his face rather than trying to comprehend how to tie a Windsor knot. “Tyrell, I’m not sure if I can stand listening to you singing in the shower every damn morning. Besides,” he paused to laugh at the mortified grimace he received, “you told me you hate this place.”_

_“Well, maybe it’d be better with you in it?”_

_“That was a damn cheesy thing to say,” Elliot commented and got up on his tiptoes so he could steal a kiss from him._

_“As if you care,” Tyrell answered._

_I do, Elliot wanted to say. Instead he simply said: “I have one condition. I’m not moving in here. Instead, we get a new apartment together.”_

_|~|_

 

He waited until they were both tucked in before he dared to ask about the cause of his memory loss again.

 

“Tyrell, please tell me. I won’t run away again,” he whispered, shuffling closer to him.

 

Tyrell groaned and turned around to face him once again. All of a sudden their lips were merely inches apart and his heart skipped a beat. Without thinking, he leaned in and kissed him. It felt as perfect as his new-won memories had suggested. Tyrell’s hand found his, intertwining their fingers, while the other pulled him closer.

 

And as much as he wanted to continue doing this, Elliot broke the kiss.

 

“Sorry. Too fast?” Tyrell asked, his concern back on his features.

 

“No, that’s not it,” he answered and kissed him again, just to prove his point.

 

“You still want to know what happened,” Tyrell concluded. With a sigh, he sat up und Elliot did the same.

 

“Okay. You remember that I’m taking you to Sweden in a couple of weeks, right?” he started, pausing for a moment to wait for Elliot to catch up.

 

“You want me to meet your family,” Elliot added.

 

“Actually I just want to show you Sweden in general, but yes, that’d probably happen as well. So you… shit, do you really need me to tell you about what you weren’t supposed to find out beforehand?”

 

He covered his face in his hands. Elliot needed a moment to realize that he was _ashamed._

“This is way more embarrassing than singing at this crappy bar, you know that, right?” Tyrell said, before he lowered his hands again and braced himself.

 

And then Elliot remembered.

 

“You were planning on proposing me.”

 

Silence. Elliot didn’t need him to confirm it. Finally, everything made sense.

 

Tyrell stared at him, probably trying to guess what was going on in his own mind right now.

 

Elliot recalled finding the ring in one of Tyrell’s jacket while taking care of the laundry. To find out like this had been like in one of those silly love movies that Angela liked so much, only without the sappy ending.

 

Shit. No wonder why Mr. Robot had wanted him to get out. This was huge.

 

“I still want to do it, but, you know, if you don’t, that’s, that’s, I mean…” he stammered, and then cut himself off. Because a Tyrell Wellick didn’t stutter, right.

 

“I… can I think about it?” Elliot said, biting down the grin that was building inside of him.

 

“Elliot, stop making fun of me. Besides, I haven’t even asked you.”

 

“Yet,” Elliot added.

 

“So you still want me to ask, I suppose?” A tiny smile was beginning to form on Tyrell’s face.

 

“Maybe,” Elliot murmured. “I guess you’ll find out in a couple of weeks, right?”

 

“Smartass,” Tyrell stated and rolled his eyes.

 

“That’s exactly why you love me, right?” he dared to ask.

 

Tyrell smiled and leaned in to kiss him. Inches away from his lips, he paused. “Yes, that’s one of the million reasons, _min älskling_.”

 

And when their lips finally met, Elliot wished he would remember this feeling forever.  

 

Because no matter how thoroughly Mr. Robot had wiped his memory, it had been useless. Tyrell was his constant in a sea of variables, too. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading this :) 
> 
> Kudos/Comments would be highly appreciated. Let me know if you'd be up for reading more in this alternate universe, I'm still unsure about it but it sure has some potential.


End file.
